


The Thief's Tale

by Taz



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Comedy, Incest, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:23:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taz/pseuds/Taz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autolycus, king of thieves, recounts a daring coup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thief's Tale

You want to buy it, sell it, swap it, steal it, deal it or feel it? The Harbor Fair in Corinth is the place to go. It’s all there, four times a year, but best is in the spring when the winter storms are over and the Mediterranean shipping starts up again.

Diplomats, mercenaries and traders descend on Greece like locusts on a ripe field of wheat. You get your peddlers selling spices and silks from Chin. You get your horse traders down from Thrace to cheat you on a painted nag. Your farmers to short weight you. Blacksmiths to over charge you. Women to give you the clap. Gods and kings and thieves to rob you.  And that’s where I come in. I’m a thief. I mean, I used—

What do you mean, you don’t think a god would rob you? Ask my cousin. She’s lost her virginity to Zeus twice at that fair—at least he had a really big thunderbolt and said his name was Zeus — skipped without paying the second time.

As I was saying, I used to be a thief.

And it was spring. And the fair was on. And there I was, with the hangover from Hades, broke in a beer garden miles from Corinth and in seriously in danger of pecuniary embarrassment. The publican—arms like logs, and a face like one particular son of Poseidon—looked like the kind of guy who hangs the bodies of deadbeats on hooks in the cellar.

If you were wondering how I was going to get myself out of this one, let me tell you, a former thief is never without resources. I had a cunning plan to distract the Cyclops, nail him with my mug and high tail it over the garden wall. If fact I was just about to declaim ‘Behold! Is that not the Winged Victory of Samothrace!’ when down the road comes a drover with a bunch of piglets, the little brown hairy ones with big ears. And who’s ambulating in the middle of them? None other than that bashful answer to many a maiden’s prayer (if their fathers only knew), our glorious King Iphicles’ brother, the famous national hero and offender of the faith. That all ‘round do-gooder, demigod and general pain in the ass, my old friend, Hercules. The shoats were frisking around him like he was their mommy. And just in time too, Polyphemus was starting to hyperventilate.

There is a god of thieves and I’ll have to steal something for him one of these days.

“Herc!” I shouted. “Ol’ buddy! Over here.”

“Autolycus!” Hercules started for the garden wall and the little picnics all followed him. “What a surprise.”

“Say, you never do know who you’ll run into in these parts. Got time for a drink? Pull up a bench. Or are you in a hurry to be somewhere with your friends?”

“No, I’ve got time.” He turned to the piglets. “I’ll stop by and see you later, guys. Bye—Niobe. Bye, Pollux. Bye, Castor. Bye Aegisthus... Euridike, Clio, Moira... ” He even said good-by to the pig herder. Every patron was staring. He’s gotta get over the pig thing one of these days.

“Old friends?” I said, as he threw one of those long legs over the wall.

“New friends. Met ‘em on the road,” he said.

Having pegged Herc as solvent, the barkeep was back with a foaming mug before Herc had even sat down.

“I believe, I’ll have another, my good man,” I said.

Polyphemus did not look impressed.

“Let me,” Hercules said.

Herc’s generous, very un-godlike.  It had been a while since we’d seen each other and who am I to deprive anyone of an opportunity to know me better. We sat drinking, making small talk, and I noticed the blond pest wasn’t with him. “Curly suffering a lapse of life?”

“I’m meeting Iolaus at the Virgin Goddess.”

“Ah, Corinth,” I said. “Special occasion?”

“It would be the occasion of the spring fair, Autolycus. I’m surprised you’re not there.”

“Oh, you know, that trouble I have with crowds…”

“So easy to find your hand in the pocket of someone else’s coat?”

“As a matter of fact, I am on my way to Corinth.”

“Autolycus—”

I cut him off before he could get some wind behind it. “Herc, before you wound me, you should know that before you is a changed man. Thanks to your influence, I’ve seen the error of my ways. I’ve embarked on a new profession.”

“And that would be?”

“Dealer in rarities—objects of art and virtue for the discriminating collector. In fact I’m carrying out a commission for a wealthy patron in Corinth even as we speak.”

Herc really shouldn’t squint that way—it makes his eyes go small and piggy.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said.

I beamed on the clever child. He squinted harder.

There was no reason for him to be suspicious—I mean, who better for a traveling companion? The highways and byways of Greece are notoriously dangerous for solitary pilgrims and the sight of Herc’s mighty thews (and the muscles attached to them) would make any brigand think twice. Even three times. Objectively speaking, he may be too big but Zeus’s little boy isn’t bad looking if you like the square-jawed and manly type.

Normally I don’t. But funny how a guy can change. We’re not two miles down the road and, today, I can’t take my eyes off the seat of his pants. There’s something bewitching about legs that go from here to there and back again by the scenic route. Oh, his shoulders and arms are well enough. And the bulge in his crotch has always suggested some impressive tackle. But, oh, those pants! My cock was composing a paean to polished leather—lust takes me that way.

That’s when it occurred to me, I’d never seen him take them off.

“Something on my pants?” He’d seen me looking and was checking the back.

“No. No. Swell pants. Who’s your tailor?”

“My mother.”

What was Alcmene thinking when she sewed those things? Two belts. All those knots. How does he... in an emergency, I mean. Those things must be worse than a chastity belt. I can see her not trusting Zeus, but sheesh! Give a “normal” guy a break.

Speaking of normal, we’d consumed a goodly amount of ale before we hit the road and Herc didn’t visit the necessary before we left. I did, and had paused to commune with nature twice since then.

The road took a turn along the river and I happened to say, “Just look at all that water. Running... flowing... gushing... spouting... spurting….”

He looked  around and said, “You’re right, this would be a good place for a mill.”

The guy’s not even half-human.

Finally, after another three miles Herc announced he’s got to see a man about a chimera and headed off into the bushes. I had an urge to check out the same animal and followed

He was behind a tree, no less, pants around his ass, drowning the weeds. Nonchalantly unlacing my own drawers, I strolled up and joined him.

Two guys together, out in the wilderness.

“Great day for a hike,” I say, hose in hand. “Fresh air. Nature at it’s finest.”

“Yes it is.” He kept his eyes on all that natural nature.

Not flattering. But it allowed me to sneak a peek. You know they coined the term “Herculean” for it.

“Speaking of nature,” I said, “how do you and Iolaus manage on those long wilderness trips?”

“Manage?”

“You know—nature. You guys give each other a hand?”

“Sure. Iolaus catches the rabbits and I do the cooking.”

“You do the cock—I mean cooking?”

“Yes. My mother taught me.”

This was going to be a challenge—but then I already knew that.

Casually, I mention how I’m looking forward to Dour Sally’s place in Corinth where the girls have the sweetest, tightest, juiciest…and the roundest, softest, most delicate... but, you know, it’s been so long since I’ve had ‘any’ that I might be a danger to the tender fairs. After all, a man’s got needs that only another man can understand. With a smug little smile on his puss, like demigods don’t have that problem, he says I should consider getting married. I’ve been married and let me tell you…

It took him twice as long as me to tuck it in and, I swear, he blushed.

What—?

Oh, blow it out your ear.

See, with me, it’s the challenge of the thing.

Back on the road. A few more miles. The sun is over the yard-arm, and I notice there’s a wet stripe down the back of Herc’s shirt.

“Tad warm for this time of year,” I point out.

He stretched his arms, let the muscles ripple, and said, “Beautiful.”

“That water looks refreshing.”

“Yes, it does.”

Subtle being wasted, I caught his eye. “How ‘bout a swim?”

“Maybe later.”

Talk about obtuse. The handsomest, most daring, debonair and clever thief in the world is inviting him to go wading and he keeps walking. In fact, he picked up the pace. I had to trot to keep up. “Hey Herc, what’s the hurry?”

“I have an appointment tonight.”

“Yeah? Dining on your brother?”

Herc’s head whipped around so fast he almost dislocated my neck. “What?”

“Eating with Iphicles?” I inquired.

“Autolycus, what’s with all the questions?”

My. My. We are jumpy today.

This was promising—an assignation at the palace? A rendezvous with royalty? Maybe, the rumors are true: the imperial halberd is humping the hero and that’s why Iphicles hasn’t been in a hurry to get hitched. My own scepter swelled at the thought.

“Be sure and sit down wind.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Only a real pal would say—Herc, you’ve got an air about you.”

That took a minute. Then he sniffed his shirt and his armpit.

“Pig?”

“Since we’re dining at the palace, let’s say ‘eau de porc.’”

Isn’t it sweet the way he blushes.

“I guess I better take a bath,” he said.

And isn’t it fortunate there was a whole river for him to wash in.

I’m such a stinker.

Displaying the delicate sensitivity I’m known for, I told him to go right ahead while I take a nap under this tree, right here, and plopped down so he could slip into the cattails.

When I heard the splashing I rolled over, crawled around the tree, slithered to the reeds, parted them and peeked.

Oh, mama! I know why Salmoneus is always after him to enter nude wrestling contests. ‘Hercules by Praxiteles—with bubbles.’ Oh, to be the sponge traveling over that terrain, I’d have lingered in the Alps forever. But there I was, squirming in the mud, and if there was ever a soap-on-a-rope kind of guy…

It occurred to me that some dishonest person could snag the peddle pushers he’d left neatly folded on that rock.

All it took was hickory wand with a notch on the end. They were mine and I was away into the bushes where I made the classic mistake of pausing to scrutinize that prize. Let me tell you, those things are built to carry the load. Heavy, smooth, well-oiled sheepskin, redolent of mink oil, Old Trojan Body Splash and—well, he does wear the same pair every day—just the funk and feel of that hide under my hands and I was tenting my trews.

“Autolycus!” 

Oops! Baby Blue caught me with the goods in hand. So to speak. “What are you doing with my pants?”

He’s got his shirt tied around his hips, for Hermessake!

If I have a personal failing (and I’m not admitting that I do) it’s that I’m too modest.

“Herc! I’ve been lusting after you all afternoon—I couldn’t help myself. If I couldn’t possess you, I had to touch some part of you.”

There was a rumble as of distant thunder.

“Lusting after me!” He looked around wildly. Maybe he expected his friends to pop out of the bushes shouting ‘surprise!’ “You can’t mean it!”

“Yes, you stunning hunk of demi-godhood. I do.”

“Autolycus, we are not having this conversation!”

I took a step toward him. “I love it when you’re masterful!”

He backed up with that deer-caught-in-the-torchlight look. “What in Hades is wrong with you today?”

“I told you Herc, you changed my life.”

“Just toss me my pants, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

“How can I forget, after what we’ve been to each other?”

“Try.”

Actually, I’m thinking this is pretty funny. He’s got that shirt clutched over his privates like I’m about to rape him, and his teats were as tight as buds. The effect of a cool breeze on damp skin and…all of a sudden, I realized a sudden black rain squall was boiling up. It was getting dark and cold. Raindrops were already falling. You think the gods enjoy pissing on mankind.

Sadly, I handed over the leather. It really hurt “Here. Take them. But it could have been beautiful.”

“It would be nice to think so.”

It was fun watching him skin into them, trying to hide his cock in case some passing stranger might see it and have a religious experience.

The rain continued, but the outskirts of Corinth and the Virgin Goddess Tavern were only another mile or so and Iolaus had booked a room. We checked in, grabbed a bottle and went upstairs to dry off. I’ve known Herc long enough to know that he’s too good-natured to hold a grudge and far too much of a gentleman not to mention my faux pas more than forty or fifty times. But, for some reason, he was quiet as we climbed the stairs. Reconsidering my offer? Maybe he wasn’t a lost cause after all.

As Pandora would say, where there’s a box, there’s hope. The room was neat, cozy even, and with some people ambiance is everything. Careful not to spook him, I shut the door behind us.

And with a sizzle and a crack of blue lightning, Ares, God of War was filling the space. Maybe that was a bag of licorice in is his hand, but all I saw was the sword on his thigh. When he said, “Mortal, if you want to live…” I beat the hare getting through the door.

Just before it slammed I heard Herc saying, “Ares! You can’t… ” Oh, yes, he can!

Expecting a fiery explosion, I only stopped at the bar to pick up another bottle. (Did you think I didn’t think I didn’t pick his pockets?) That was when I noticed that the building was still standing. And it was quiet…too quiet. So I popped the cork, sat down and ordered dinner—the jugged hedgehog at the Virgin Goddess is excellent. It’s a great place.

I should mention the balcony on the second floor. I’ve used it on occasion going the other way, but skinning up it was no problem.

I kept my head down and crawled under the window ledges until I came to the right room and peered over the sill. There they were—Ares had Herc on the floor. On his knees.  And he was furious. Really giving it to him!

“Whose baby are you?” Ares was shouting. “Tell me who gives you the bone!”

“You do,” Herc was saying. “Only you. I’m your baby, Ares.”

You could see the palm prints on Herc’s bright red ass. And that thick cock sliding in and out…

Hot? Yeah! But best of all, Herc’s pants were draped over a chair right near the window. All I had to do was reach.

Those fucking gods never even noticed.

Later that night, I kept my appointment with the chief eunuch of the harem of the Phrygian ambassador. They were on their way to Athens and, believe me, it was a near thing; that train was ready to roll. The horses were already hitched and stamping as I gave him the package and he handed me a bag of gold. He ordered me to wait while he took it to the most lavishly decorated wagon. I saw him slip it to someone inside under the canvas curtains. After the goods had been checked out, the eunuch came back.

“Thief, my mistress would speak with you.” Disapproval was writ large on his face.

“Ex-thief,” I said. No reason for him to be like that, I had the stones—all he had was job security.

As I approached the wagon, a corner of the curtain was lifted, the sweet smell of jasmine poured from it. Those Phrygian women are rumored to be the most beautiful in the world, but they’re kept sequestered. One can only imagine sweet coffee eyes and lips like black cherries but I saw the delicate hand that passed me a comb made of tortoise shell encrusted with rubies. I heard the bell-like voice that said, “You have done well, Thief.”

Now, she can call me anything she likes.

I stood there as the wagons began to roll, and I could hear excited squeals of feminine laughter.

I guess Herc’s mom had to make him another pair.

 

 

_Finis_

18 January 2003


End file.
